


firewhisky

by bestie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9624824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestie/pseuds/bestie
Summary: “Hello,” he says with a nod, his expression as surly and sullen as ever.He’s saying it toRon. He’s looking atRon.“Hi,” says Ron, and after he speaks, his mouth doesn’t quite manage to close all the way.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MildredMost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/gifts).



Ron Weasley helped defeat Voldemort. He was there through the thick and thin of it all. He shouldn’t be a nervous wreck as he waits to meet Viktor Krum; if anything, Viktor Krum should be nervous to meet _him_. But status be damned, Ron finds himself unable to quite stop fidgeting, much to the disapproval of Hermione and Ginny. (Harry tries to be disapproving, but he can’t keep a straight face.)

It’s a stroke of fortune, really, that he’s here at a charity Quidditch game, mere months into the Wizarding world’s recovery from Voldemort. Hermione had received a letter from Krum, inviting her to come see the game; Harry was playing in it as the Seeker for the red team (because this was an international effort, so the teams were merely _red_ and _blue_ ); Ginny was attending as part of her internship with the Daily Prophet; and Ron, well – he was just a plus-one, thanks to Hermione pitying him enough.

It’s an even bigger stroke of fortune that he’s getting to meet Viktor one-on-one.

Four-on-one, more accurately, but it doesn’t feel like that when Viktor rounds the corner, still sweaty from the game with a towel draped around his neck and his broom slung over a shoulder, and his eyes meet Ron’s directly.

“Hello,” he says with a nod, his expression as surly and sullen as ever.

He’s saying it to _Ron_. He’s looking at _Ron_.

“Hi,” says Ron, and after he speaks, his mouth doesn’t quite manage to close all the way.

Harry excuses himself moments later, claiming he’d forgotten something back in the red team’s locker room, but they all hear him start to laugh when he gets further down the hallway.

“You’ll have to excuse Harry,” says Ginny, her smile wide. “He doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, sometimes.”

* * *

Somehow, they end up going out for drinks.

‘They’ meaning Viktor and Ron. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny all managed to slip away at various points between their meet-up and the trip to the bar, and they all managed to give Ron a _look_ before they left.

At first, he and Viktor don’t talk much. Even if it was just a charity game, Viktor is still a bit upset at his loss (but he makes sure to compliment Harry’s skills _multiple_ times, even if Harry isn’t there with them) and, if there is one thing Ron has learned, it’s that Viktor isn’t entirely communicative when things aren’t in his favor.

After a few drinks, though, they’re talking like two old friends.

“I do not understand,” says Viktor, after another swing of firewhisky, “how _you_ get so nervous around _me_. I did not fight against Voldemort. If anything, I—” He gestures to himself with a wide sweeping motion that nearly knocks into a waitress. “—I should be the one who is nervous around _you_.”

Ron scoffs, pouring another shot for him and Viktor. “No, no, definitely not. You see, _I_ had a – well, quite honestly, a massive friggin’ crush on you back during the Tournament, because who bloody _wouldn’t_ , so if anything, it should be _me_ who is—”

“A crush on me?” Viktor interrupts, bushy brows raised high in surprise. “You?”

“Well, yeah.” Ron is slurring his words together, but so is Viktor, so it, and the whole situation in general, don’t seem quite so embarrassing. “I mean, it’s – it’s _you_.”

Viktor is watching him now with surprising focus for someone who, just a second ago, seemed as completely plastered as Ron was. “It’s me.”

“Yeah,” Ron says slowly. He’s grinning, sipping at his shot like it’s a glass of water. “You.”

“You,” says Viktor, with a twitch of a smile, “are a very kind man, Weasley.”

* * *

Ron doesn’t remember the details of the events that led him to waking up in Viktor’s hotel room. It’s brief flashes, more tactile memories than anything; he’s going on feeling, and it’s all kisses and heavy touches, them rutting against each other with their clothes still half-on,  

Viktor feels heavy on top of him, shorter but stockier than Ron, and even if trying to move his head didn’t cause a horrible throbbing pain in his head, he figures he still wouldn’t want to move anyways.

It’s comfortable, oddly enough. Ron finds he doesn’t mind the extra weight, and he’s able to doze off until Viktor finally rouses. The sun is shining right into Ron’s eyes, no matter how hard he squeezes them shut, and Viktor is muttering in Bulgarian in a way that is somehow both rapid-fire and utterly lazy at the same time. He catches the word  _firewhisky_ , and the Bulgarian word for  _horrible_ , so whatever it is he's muttering about, Ron feels like he can relate to it.

“That’s a nice way to greet someone a good morning,” Ron mumbles. Viktor jolts in surprise, but he settles not even a moment later.

“Did not want to wake you,” he says, his voice quiet and his accent heavy enough that his words still manage to sound slurred. He turns his head, taking Ron’s arm that’s slung around his shoulder and bringing the wrist close to his lips, so he can press kisses against the skin there. “Not to mention, my English right now, it is…”

Ron hushes him with a quiet _shh_. “No words,” he says. “Just sleeping. Please.”


End file.
